


Drugged

by maqcy



Series: Whumptober 2018 [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Drug test, Drugged Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Needles, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Pining Derek, Protective Derek, Stiles POV, Stiles Stilinski in Heat, Taking Blood, Vomiting, Whumptober, induced heat, mildly possessive, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy
Summary: Stiles goes into a sudden, painful heat at work and Derek, his superior, steps in to help get Stiles home.





	Drugged

**Author's Note:**

> And lo, a sudden long fic appeared! I wrote this one before whumptober began so its longer than the recent ones and probably better quality too aha. 
> 
> Thanks again to Imperial_Dragon for their very useful suggestions and continued encouragement <3 <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :)

Stiles sipped tiredly at his half-cold coffee with his face resting on his hand.

 _Blah blah blah blah_ , he thought, looking through all the absolute drivel he’d written. Another inane article about some footballer who contributed nothing to society. Fucking journalism. Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered why he felt so hot. He shucked out of his jacket, stiffening when he heard quiet laughter behind him, his neck prickling like someone was looking at him. He glanced behind him, confused, but the two guys turned their backs on him, still laughing.

 _Just like being back in high school_ , Stiles thought sourly, fighting the hurt that was squirming in his belly. He caught a couple of his co-workers looking at him from the break station but they scuttled off whilst he stared after them. He glanced down at the coffee in his hand, wondering whether the caffeine was making him paranoid or whether he was the butt of some joke.

Someone a couple of seats down was staring at him and, frustrated, Stiles came to his feet and headed for the bathroom. Was something on his face? On his back? God, it was so warm in the building all of a sudden.

Stiles got to the bathroom and braced his hands against the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked flushed, but that was just the embarrassment of it. He felt unsettled. He thought he’d been bonding with these guys, even though he was an omega and journalism was a pretty damn alpha and beta-dominated industry. Stiles’ had a thick skin; he was used to shitty jokes and being ignored for no reason, but he was, like, seventy-percent certain that there was some trick being played on him here and he didn’t have a fucking clue what it was.

After twisting around to check his back and ass for notes stuck on him (there were none), Stiles exhaled heavily and washed his hands under the cold water, realising that he was sweating. He towelled off his hands and reluctantly headed out again.

He _knew_ he wasn’t imagining it when he walked back to his desk and several people looked up to stare at him, tracking his progress. What the hell?

“Why’re staring at me?” Stiles finally confronted someone; a guy he’d collaborated with on an article a couple of weeks back.

The guy, Jack, avoided his eyes, looking acutely uncomfortable, and turned away. “Don’t know what you mean,” he muttered.

Irritation bubbled to the surface. “Everyone’s looking at me,” Stiles snapped, before forcing himself to lower his voice, aware of the eyes on him. “I don’t get why. What’s going on? I don’t get the joke.”

“Just- just go home Stiles,” Jack said, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Stiles stared at him. “What? Why?” His hands twitched to roll up his sleeves. It was so hot in here.

Jack was refusing to talk to him anymore and Stiles reluctantly stumbled back towards his desk. He felt nauseous and he couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or something else.

“Stiles,” someone said and Stiles turned around, freezing when he saw who it was.

Derek. Six-foot of muscled alpha and currently looking low-key pissed.

“Yeah?” Stiles said somewhat nervously. He really wasn’t feeling well; he didn’t want to be yelled at right now.

“Step over here with me,” Derek said, voice low and steady, and Stiles couldn’t have refused if he’d tried. Derek led him a short distance away, presumably so that the whole office couldn’t eavesdrop. Stiles was feeling dizzyingly fuzzy-headed, like he did just before- “You’re going into heat, Stiles,” Derek said, once they were a few steps away.

Stiles laughed awkwardly. “I can’t be,” he said weakly. He knew he was experiencing the symptoms of a heat, but this wasn’t how it usually felt. It never came on this fast, and he wasn’t due, and he felt incredibly sick, which he’d never had before.

“You are,” Derek said flatly, his expression looking a little strained and he was keeping a foot or so between them, like he didn’t want to stand too close to Stiles. Stiles could smell the alpha’s woodsy scent more than usual and he tried to ignore how good it was. Derek continued, “Do you have someone you can call?”

Stiles cringed, clenched his jaw, and then shook his head. He fisted his hands by his side before reaching up to drag a hand through his short hair.  

“It’s fine,” he said faintly. “I’ll call a taxi.”

Derek frowned at him and Stiles looked away, his shoulders curling up. The disapproval of an alpha always hit him particularly hard in the couple of days before a heat. But this heat hadn’t given him any warning, and it wasn’t scheduled; it didn’t make any sense.

“Alright,” Derek said. Stiles saw Derek glance over his shoulder and Stiles didn’t look, because he was pretty sure all he’d see was everyone staring at him. Shame made him want to curl up.

“Come and wait in my office,” Derek said and Stiles eyed him warily. Derek was…a big guy and Stiles didn’t know him much at all, and if Derek was right about this, then Stiles was going into heat. It wasn’t a good time for him to be around a strange alpha.

Derek saw his hesitation and looked down at him, “I’m not gonna hurt you, Stiles,” he said, his tone softening and Stiles swallowed and nodded, letting Derek take his shoulder and guide him over to the alpha’s office, Derek’s scent reminding him of pine trees. He didn’t really have a choice.

Derek gestured to a chair against the wall and Stiles sat slowly down, trying to ignore the churning of his stomach. Fuck. He pressed a hand to his face and tried to take deep breaths, but he was panicking. He could feel slick beginning to gather beneath him and he was shaking at the humiliation of all this.

“Hey, hey, Stiles, easy.” Derek came over to him and Stiles flinched back a little but Derek just crouched down in front of him, though the alpha clearly tensed at the proximity, and took Stiles’ hand gently. “Breath, ‘kay? Gonna be okay. Take deep breaths, alright?” Stiles was trying and Derek squeezed his hand lightly, “That’s it, good,” he said and Stiles released a shuddering breath at the praise. Fuck. Of all the people to be falling apart in front of it had to Derek fucking Hale, who had a reputation for being incredibly level-headed for an alpha but also being ruthless as hell. But Derek’s even breathing and general calm was somewhat grounding and Stiles found himself focusing on Derek’s scent and he let it settle his omega. He wondered whether Derek was mated; maybe that was why he was so calm. Stiles ignored the jab of disappointment from his omega at the thought.

“Sorry,” Stiles managed, when he could breathe again.

Derek let go of his hand and eased back a little, giving him space, for which Stiles was grateful, even as his omega wished Derek would stay close, touch him again. Stiles shoved that part of him down.

“Don’t worry,” Derek said. “Just sit there. I’ll call a cab.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, before he put his elbows on his knees and tried to breathe through the nausea and the arousal that was gathering in his gut. “I’m not always this pathetic and sweaty,” he said weakly. “You should talk to me when I don’t feel sick. I’m the life of the party.”

“Do you think you’re going to be sick?” Derek said.

Stiles was shivering as the sweat dried on his skin, even as he was too hot. He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, keeping his head down. “As if this isn’t shitty enough as it.”

A wastepaper basket appeared in front of him and there was a glancing touch on his shoulder before Derek walked away again and Stiles blearily heard him talking on the phone.

“They’re on the way,” Derek said and Stiles nodded tiredly. “I’m just going to speak to my boss, okay? Just let them know what’s going on. Stay here for me?” Stiles nodded miserably and Derek left, closing the door quietly behind him.

 _Stupid omega, making life difficult for everyone else_. He’d been so happy to get this job, impatient to prove himself and take on the stigma against omegas. But here he was anyway, making a mess of his trousers and, in a minute, probably Derek’s chair too. He resisted the urge to roll his hips against the chair because he was at work, goddammit, and he wasn’t some omega slut. _Fuck_.

Derek returned after a few minutes and Stiles found himself relaxing just a little at the presence of the alpha, at the warm smell of him, even though he tried not to let himself think like that. Derek was just helping him out, he wouldn’t want some stupid omega rubbing up against him like a goddamn cat.

“This makes no sense,” Stiles said, trying to drag his head back into the realm of rational thought. “I’m not due. My heats don’t come on this fast, and I’ve never felt this sick before.”

Derek didn’t immediately reply and Stiles closed his eyes to wait for the taxi. Derek probably thought he was just some idiot who couldn’t control himself. What alpha wanted to hear about omega heat cycles anyway-

“Stiles, I think you should get some blood taken,” Derek said after a moment and Stiles struggled to comprehend him.

“What?” he said intelligently. His stomach hurt, and his cock throbbed distractingly as this heat settled in to stay.

Derek was silent for a second, “It sounds like you could have been slipped something,” he said, perfectly even, though Stiles saw his fingers twitching.

“I hate hospitals,” Stiles mumbled while he was trying to process Derek’s words. Could he really have been given some heat-inducing drugs? Why? Did someone really hate him that much? “Sure, yeah, okay,” he found himself agreeing weakly. His omega didn’t want to disagree with the alpha, but he also thought that Derek might be right. There was a small, warm bubble of relief inside him that Derek hadn’t just brushed his words off entirely, that Derek _believed_ him. “I’ll go after.”

“If there is something to be found, it’s best you get bloods done as soon as possible,” Derek said. “Otherwise it could leave your system.”

Stiles couldn’t form a coherent answer. The sickness had resided a little but the more classic symptoms of heat were setting in to stay, arousal making him twitch. His ass felt unpleasantly damp and he wished he could just sink into the floor, this was so embarrassing.

“Okay,” he managed finally.

“Taxi’s here,” Derek said and Stiles startled. He heard Derek sigh and found himself tilting his head to bare his neck submissively, trying to appease the alpha. Jeez, this wasn’t like him _at all_.

“It’s alright, I’m not mad,” Derek said gently. “Come on, let’s get you up.” He took hold of Stiles’ arm and Stiles allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Derek’s scent was strong and steady around him but Stiles cringed at the feeling of the slick against his ass, briefly hating his gender with a passion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, curled in on himself. If half the office had been able to smell him, betas included, then Derek had to be able to smell him too and Stiles shuddered with the shame of it. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again.

“Shh,” Derek said, a warm rumble as he was guiding Stiles out the door and taking him down the corridor at a quick walk, Stiles stumbling uncoordinatedly behind him. Derek stayed between Stiles and everyone else, shielding him with his broad shoulders and Stiles was unspeakably grateful.

“Excuse me, thank you,” he heard Derek speaking and then they were in a lift alone and Stiles couldn’t keep his legs under him and he touched the wall of the lift and then slid to the floor. He winced at the pinch of his cock, trapped inside his pants. “Oh- dammit, no, Stiles, come on.” Stiles flinched away from the sharp words but Derek’s hands under his arms were nothing but careful as they pulled him back to his feet. “We’ll be on the ground floor in a second,” Derek said, “no time for sitting down. You’ll be home soon.”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, leaning into Derek’s solidity. He heard Derek inhale sharply and, remembering himself, Stiles pulled himself up and away from Derek. _He’s a fucking alpha_ , he reminded himself as he curled his arms around his ribs. “Sorry,” he said quickly, unable to look at the man. _Fucking cock-tease omegas_ , the harsh voice in his head said, but Derek only kept a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles, it’s fine,” he said, “it’s just biology, you’re okay.”

“Are you mated or something?” Stiles found himself asking. “You’re so calm it’s weird.”

Derek huffed. “I was in a fire when I was young,” he said, smoothly. “It damaged my sense of smell. But alphas being unable to control themselves is a genderist myth, anyway.”

The lift doors pinged open and Stiles trailed behind Derek, staying close to him as Derek took him outside, the cool breeze feeling damn good against his heated skin.

Derek headed over to the taxi and Stiles let himself be herded by Derek’s careful hands. He caught a couple of disgusted looks sent his way by passers-by and he ducked his head in shame.

“S’okay,” Derek said, putting a hand on his back. He pulled the taxi door open and Stiles went to climb in, only for the taxi driver to start yelling at him. He reeled backwards, seeking safety and finding it with Derek.

He heard Derek talking with the driver, arguing with him, and Stiles curled his shoulders up further, trying to hide himself from the conflict. Derek’s hand started rubbing circles on his back and a little of the tension seeped out of him.

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek said as the taxi took off and Stiles stared uncomprehendingly after it. “I’ll drive you instead.”

“But- what about-” Stiles started weakly, but he let himself be led away towards the company car park. “I just want to go home,” he said, aware of how pathetic he sounded and yet the words fell out of his mouth anyway.

“I know, I’ll get you there, but the driver wouldn’t take you.” Stiles saw Derek glance behind him before wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, “Let’s get you off the street,” he muttered and Stiles nodded reluctantly, even as the parts of him still capable of rational thought were telling him that it was a terrible idea to get in a car with a strange alpha when he was in heat.

“You better not murder me,” he muttered as Derek was unlocking a gorgeous, sleek black car. “Nice car, though,” he said.

Derek laughed, “Thanks, I think,” he said, opening the passenger seat door for Stiles to climb inside.

Stiles hesitated again, looking nervously between Derek and the car. Derek frowned slightly at him. “Do you want to call a friend?” he offered after a moment. “Let them know who’s driving you?”

“I- yeah. Good idea,” Stiles said, his brain seeming to be moving twice as slow as usual. He fished out his phone and sent a text off to Scott, who he knew was at work, but he’d read it eventually.

Stiles cringed as he sat down and he wished he still had his jacket to put under his ass.

“I’m gonna ruin your car,” he said awkwardly as Derek got into the driver’s seat. “I swear I’ll pay for the cleaning.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your address?”

Stiles dragged it up from the depths of his memory and watched as Derek typed it into the satnav on the dashboard, before setting off. Stiles felt sweaty and disgusting all over and he knew from the way Derek’s hands twitched on the steering wheel, and then opened the windows, that he stank enough of heat pheromones for even Derek to pick up with his damaged sense of smell. Stiles’ cock was twitching in his pants and he twisted himself towards the door, away from Derek, face hot with shame, even as Derek was handling this whole mess with the grace of a fucking saint. He wanted to apologise again, but what help would it be?

Derek turned on the radio at some point and Stiles had enough thoughts left in his head to wonder if Derek liked the classical station he’d put on, or if he’d just chosen something calming for Stiles’ benefit.

“I don’t really want to take you to the hospital like this,” Derek was saying and Stiles tried to focus. “But if you want to go, I will.”

Stiles just wanted to go home, and his omega wanted to heed to Derek, and he was about to agree, before he stilled. “I won’t be believed if I say I was drugged if there’s no evidence,” he said slowly, feeling exhausted already even though he wasn’t even part way through this thing. “I’m gonna lose this job anyway. Could at least take-” he broke off as a rush of heat flooded through him and he groaned softly before clamping his hand over his mouth in horror. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“Alright,” Derek said, muscles twitching in his forearm even as his voice stayed perfectly level. “Hospital then. Hopefully they’ll have a vacant heat-chamber.”

Stiles was surprised that Derek even knew about those; most alphas were woefully ignorant of anything to do with omegas that didn’t directly affect them.

But it didn’t matter, “They get booked weeks in advance,” Stiles said. He curled his legs a little closer to his stomach in an attempt to hide the way his cock was pressed uncomfortably up against the inside of his work trousers. “You don’t have to stay,” he said, even as the thought of Derek leaving made him want to curl up into a ball. “I’ll- work something out.”

“It’s fine,” Derek said. “We’re almost there, just hang on.”

Stiles laughed weakly. He couldn’t really do anything else. He hadn’t had a heat this strong since his very first one, which an asshole alpha triggered when he was fifteen, but Stiles tried not to think about that. Derek wasn’t going to touch him like that, or, at least, he had yet to do anything to make Stiles wary.

Stiles closed his eyes briefly, unable to stay focused, and then opened them again when the car slowed. Derek was heading into the hospital car park and Stiles tried to rouse himself a little as Derek turned off the engine.

Derek got out and Stiles fumblingly unclipped his seatbelt and went to reach for the door, only for Derek to open it for him and hold out a hand.

Stiles shook his head and pulled himself up to get out, “I’m okay,” he murmured, his fragile pride needing to at least pretend to be okay. He ignored the slick he could feel beginning to seep down his leg.

“I know,” Derek said, stepping back to let Stiles get himself up on his own. Stiles blinked a few times once he was on his feet and then forced himself to set off towards the hospital entrance, even as he felt painfully sick again and his skin felt like it was burning.

“Stiles,” Derek said, “do you want my jacket? It might hide your scent a little.”

Stiles nodded reluctantly and let Derek drape his suit jacket over his shoulders, “Thank you,” he said quietly, looking up to catch Derek’s eye. The man had done so much more than Stiles could ever have hoped for considering this whole shitty situation, and especially from an alpha.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Derek said.

Inside the big, white building, Stiles let Derek steer him to the front desk and tried not to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” Stiles mumbled, when they were asking for his name. He glanced at Derek, who had his eyebrows raised but couldn’t work up the energy to say anything.

He was directed away and Stiles stuck shamefully close to Derek’s side, fearful of being abandoned amongst all these strangers. Derek touched his back lightly as they walked.

“I’m right here,” Derek said, seeming to pick up on his nervousness and Stiles couldn’t summon a reply but was grateful all the same.

Stiles was taken into a room and gratefully sat down, even as he had to subtly shift to adjust his cock in his trousers, and Derek hovered close by as a nurse came over.

“Hello sweetheart. I’m here to take a blood sample, is that right?” Stiles managed a nod. “Okay, let’s get some scent-blocker on you first, okay?” he said and Stiles blinked at him, before flinching when the tall beta went to take his wrist, rubbing something cold and liquid on his skin. “Can you do your neck yourself?” the beta said and Stiles nodded quickly. He didn’t want anyone except- _no_ , he just didn’t want anyone touching his neck. The nurse handed him the bottle and he rubbed the scent-blocker on his neck, focusing on the spots under his ears, where his neck glands were.

“Great job, let’s get these bloods taken next, and then you two can head home-”

“We’re not-” Derek said, just as Stiles opened his mouth to deny it too, and they turned to look at each other before Stiles looked awkwardly away again. “We’re just colleagues,” Derek said after a pause and the nurse hummed in acknowledgement.

“Well you’ve both done a great job getting here,” he said soothingly. Stiles’ sleeve was already rolled up so the nurse just had to swab the area before he was unwrapping the needle and Stiles swallowed and looked away. Derek took his hand gently and Stiles looked down at those long, tanned fingers as the nurse took the blood sample. He blamed the rush of longing he felt on his heat.

“There we are, all done,” the nurse said. “We’ll get those analysed and send the results to you as soon as possible. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said. He wanted to shrug Derek’s jacket off because the material felt far too warm and abrasive against his overly sensitive skin, but he knew it was covering his scent a little, and he admitted, if only to himself, that he liked being able to smell Derek on him, around him. He could almost pretend that Derek cared for him.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” the nurse said. “We haven’t got any heat chambers free, I’m sorry. Are you okay to get yourself home or do you want a heat minder to take you?” Heat minders were nurses that specialised in omega heats, especially omegas that got particularly extreme or long heats.

“I don’t know-” Stiles started, glancing over at Derek. The alpha probably wanted to be done with the sweaty, heat-crazy omega that had been foisted on him, but something in Derek’s expression, and the presence of his pleasant scent, made him pause.

“I’m happy to take him home,” Derek said. “But if you’d feel more comfortable with a heat-minder, Stiles-”

“No, I mean, if you’re happy to- then I’d like that,” Stiles managed and Derek smiled.

“Okay then,” he said and Stiles smiled back shyly. He didn’t know why Derek hadn’t run for the hills by now, but Stiles would take what was offered. He shuddered as another wave of heat made him feel like he was burning up and more slick gathered beneath him. He swallowed thickly and tried to shove the arousal down. He’d never had a heat this intense.

“Great,” the nurse said, before producing some paperwork. “Now if you can both just fill these out for me.”

There was a form asking about Stiles’ contact details so they could contact him about the blood test results, and another that confirmed that he was aware and willing to go home with someone who wasn’t family nor a certified heat-minder. Stiles signed them, his hand shaking a little, and clammy with sweat. Derek had had opportunity enough to hurt him already and he hadn’t so much as lost his temper or gotten handsy. Stiles was willing to take the risk.

The time between leaving the hospital and getting back into Derek’s car was kind of a blur, and Stiles felt himself dropping into a doze once they were in the car and the radio was back on. Derek’s scent was stronger in the car and Stiles settled into it, allowing it to soothe him a little.

“We’re close, Stiles,” Derek said and Stiles startled at the touch on his arm. “You’re going to have to help me out here.”

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled and pushed himself up to try and get his bearings, except, oh fuck- he felt sick. He hit Derek urgently on the arm, pressing a hand over his mouth and the car swerved as Derek immediately pulled over.

“Fuck, you okay?” Derek said as Stiles shoved the door open and vomited onto the grass verge. Stiles managed to nod, just trying to breathe and Derek didn’t say anything else.

When Stiles finally felt like he wasn’t going to throw up again, he pulled himself back up to drag a hand over his too-warm face and laughed weakly, “Bet you wish you’d ditched me when you had the chance,” he said.

Derek exhaled in a quiet laugh and Stiles was relieved to hear it. “You didn’t get any in my car,” he said lightly. “So we’re good.”

“Oh, so I’d be out on my ass-” Stiles started, and then had to pause to gather himself to say the rest, “if I’d gotten it in the car?” Stiles turned to give Derek a watery smile. “Noted.”

Derek laughed properly then, even as his eyes on Stiles’ face seemed worried. “Guess you’ll never know now,” he said.

“Dunno about that,” Stiles said. He still felt like he might retch again. His cock twitched insistently in his pants and Stiles had to force himself not to react to it. Fucking hell this was a mess. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to look Derek in the eye again, if he even saw Derek again after this. Stiles was pretty sure that work would find a way to fire him.

Derek made a soft noise of acknowledgment, “Let’s get you home. Which block is yours?”

Stiles peered out the window, “Eh- just follow this street for a bit longer, then there’s a car park on the- the right. I’m on the third floor.” Just that amount of talking and thinking exhausted him and he sagged backwards.

Derek got them parked up while Stiles focused on not vomiting. Even as his pride hated it, he let Derek help him into the apartment building and they got into the lift together. Derek was silent, appearing composed and Stiles felt like a complete mess. How was Derek so fucking calm? Even with what Derek had said, Stiles knew that Derek could smell him; weren’t alphas meant to not be able to control themselves? Wasn’t that what had been drilled into him? Sure, he had some scent blocker on him now from the hospital but he knew it wasn’t covering his scent entirely and Derek had been pretty much this collected the whole time.

“Is this not affecting you at all?” Stiles said finally, just as the lift was arriving. “How are you- how are you-” Stiles broke off, curling over his stomach at a stab of pain in his abdomen, barely managing to stop the whine that wanted to escape him.

“Stiles!” Derek said, alarmed. He took Stiles’ shoulders, “Are you going to be sick again?”

“Just- hurts,” Stiles ground out as he felt more slick slide down his thighs. It had to be showing through his trousers now. He forced himself back upright with a hand wrapped around his stomach. He’d never felt like this and it was scaring him. _Home_ , he thought, _just got to get home_. He looked down the thankfully empty corridor and nodded towards his door. “Apartment- there,” he said.

“Alright,” Derek said. Stiles tried to move but ended up sinking down against the wall. “Fuck,” Derek said softly, before he crouched down.

“Sorry,” Stiles said breathlessly. He felt sick again.

“Can I carry you?” Derek said. Stiles managed to nod, kind of beyond caring at this point. His omega crooned happily at the feel of Derek’s strong arms wrapping around him but Stiles told it sharply to _shut the fuck up_. Derek was a colleague. The best, nicest, kindest colleague _ever_ , sure, but Derek was going to be glad to be done with him and Stiles needed to remember that.

“Keys?” Derek said tightly, sounding like he was trying not to breathe, and Stiles had a brief panic that they’d come all this way only for him to have left his keys at the office but, no, they were-

“In my pocket,” he said. He couldn’t reach them with the way Derek was holding him, bridal style. Stiles clutched at Derek’s neck when Derek shifted his weight to reach into Stiles’ pocket and fish out his keys.

“S’okay, I’ve got you,” Derek muttered and then the door was open and Stiles, exhausted, lay his head against Derek’s collarbone, trying to subtly inhale as much of Derek’s woodsy scent as he could.

“Bathroom,” Stiles pleaded quietly, pointing the way. He felt sick again and he didn’t want to do it all over the floor, or worse, over Derek.

“Sure,” Derek said, kicking the door shut behind them before heading quickly in the direction Stiles had indicated.

Stiles was set carefully down on the bathmat and he shuffled wearily over to the toilet bowl as his stomach churned, but he didn’t throw up again yet.

“I’m gonna fucking kill whoever did this,” Derek muttered, barely audible.

“Mm,” Stiles said weakly, as his omega preened at Derek’s protective tone. “I get to kill ‘em first,” he said.

Derek laughed lowly, “Yeah, deal,” he said.

Stiles’ brief amusement turned into his shoulders shaking and he shifted to grip the toilet to be violently sick again and then, to his horror, he started crying.

“Hey, hey,” Derek breathed and Stiles heard him come over, before there was toilet paper wiping his mouth and careful hands on his shoulder, “You’re okay, this’ll pass.”

“I- I’ve never felt this bad,” Stiles choked, unable to look at the alpha. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t- have to be here.” Stiles felt too hot and pain was stabbing into his stomach, making him wince.

Derek put a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up,” he frowned. He ran one of Stiles’ face cloths under the cold tap, “Just hold that for me,” he said, gently pressing the cold cloth to Stiles’ forehead. “I’ll get you some water, okay?”

“Thanks,” Stiles said weakly, holding the blissfully cold cloth to his face. Water sounded good.

Derek came back with a glass and Stiles drank some, but didn’t have too much, since his stomach still felt painfully unsettled. He could feel that his slick had ruined the base of his boxers and his trousers.

“I think- I’m gonna take a shower, if that’s okay?” Stiles said. He didn’t know why he’d asked for Derek’s permission but it had fallen out of his mouth, wanting an alpha’s approval. Stiles squashed down a wave of self-loathing.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Derek said. Derek got to his feet, “I’ll- wait outside, if you want?”

Stiles could only nod. “Thanks,” he said.

“Just yell if you want me,” Derek said and Stiles managed to wait until Derek had left, closing the bathroom door behind him, before he started crying properly, pressing his hand tightly to his mouth to stop himself from making any noise. There was a lancing pain in his stomach and he felt disgusted with himself. _This isn’t your fault_ , something in him said, but it felt like it was. Like if he was just been better able to control himself, or if he had made people like him more, then this wouldn’t have happened and Derek wouldn’t be stuck here, babysitting him.

Stiles dragged his sorry ass over towards the shower, carefully putting Derek’s jacket on the radiator before he yanked his shirt off roughly and peeled away his trousers and boxers with a whimper. He stilled, hoping that Derek hadn’t heard him, but there was no sound so he pulled off his socks and pulled himself into the shower, flicking it on and wincing at the cold spray.

Some first aid advice from somewhere told him not to shock his system with anything too cold so he got the water up to a lukewarm temperature and sat underneath it for several minutes before he could get up the energy to start soaping himself, and to clean the slick from his ass.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Stiles turned the water off. “Yeah?” he said.

“I’m leaving some clothes outside the door if you want them,” Derek’s low voice said.

“Thanks,” Stiles said gratefully, hearing Derek’s footsteps move away again. Stiles turned the shower back on to wash himself thoroughly, avoiding touching his half-hard dick. He knew from experience that touching himself never took the edge off, it only made things worse, so he resisted the temptation and stepped out of the shower to get himself dry, feeling a little more human.

He fetched the clothes Derek had left outside the door and couldn’t stop himself from pressing his nose to them, catching Derek’s scent there amongst his own, and the laundry detergent. He flushed as he did it, knowing how wrong it was but he wasn’t quite able to stop himself. He dragged the clothes on and found a heat-pad in the cupboard under the sink to put in his underwear to catch the slick he was producing. Another stab of pain in his gut made him cry out before he could stop himself and he scrabbled back towards the toilet to throw up again, except there wasn’t a whole lot less and he was left with his eyes watering and acid burning his mouth.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was anxious at the door. “Are you decent? Can I come in?”

Stiles’ omega was pining for the comfort of an alpha that they were beginning to trust and Stiles couldn’t quite voice an assurance that he was fine. He didn’t feel fucking fine. “Yeah,” he said finally and Derek came straight in with a muttered, ‘fuck’.

“This can’t be normal,” Derek said, coming down to sit beside him. “Can I do something? Should I call for a heat-minder?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles breathed. Slick was coming out of his ass again and he still felt sick. “Maybe it will go away, right?” he said, unconvinced.

Derek was silent. “Maybe,” he said finally. There was quiet for a minute before Derek spoke again, “I wish we knew what was in your system.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said tiredly. “I didn’t think- anyone hated me enough- to do this.” He felt like crying again but swallowed it down and steeled himself. Fuck whoever did this. Fuck them.

“I doubt it was personal,” Derek said flatly. “Just straight-up bigotry against omegas. Probably jealous of how well you’ve been doing.”

Stiles laughed sourly, “What? Writing shitty articles about celebrities?” he glanced at Derek, remembering who he was. “Probably shouldn’t say that,” he added apologetically, as a wave of heat made him cringe.

“You’re being considered for promotion,” Derek said, sounding faintly amused. “And we always put newbies through writing the celeb pieces. Trial by fire kind of thing.”

Stiles laughed, “Well,” he said tightly. “Won’t be getting promoted now.”

“We’ll see about that,” Derek said and Stiles glanced up at him, seeing the irritated set of Derek’s eyebrows and struggling not to mewl in response to Derek’s apparent displeasure. Derek’s expression softened. “Hey. I just don’t want your career getting thrown away over some shithead fucking drugging you. It’s not fair. You’re a good writer, Stiles.”

“Didn’t realise- you even knew my name before this,” Stiles said. The praise settled him a little, even as he still felt like he was too goddamn hot and his stomach ached. He was stubbornly ignoring his stupid cock.

“I didn’t,” Derek said. “I had no idea you were called mee-chi-slov-something Stilinski.”

Stiles snorted, “Mieczyslaw,” he said.

“Mie-czi-sla?” Derek tried, not mocking.

“Pretty much,” Stiles said, sighing. It had been a long time since someone had said his real name.

“No, say it again, I want to get it,” Derek asked and Stiles obliged. “Mieczyslaw?” Derek said, getting it right and Stiles smiled tiredly and nodded. His name sounded nice in Derek’s rough voice.

“Mom used to call me Mischief,” he said, and then wondered why he’d shared that.

“Mm, that fits,” Derek said and Stiles poked Derek in the ribs in protest.

“I’m a model citizen,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, sure,” Derek said, gently teasing. “How’re you feeling?”

“Shit,” Stiles said honestly, before he could stop himself.

“Heats usually last twelve or so hours, right?” Derek said and Stiles nodded. “You want to sleep for a bit?”

“Okay,” Stiles said. He managed to stand on his own, though he didn’t mind Derek touching his shoulder to steady him. He headed through to the bedroom, switching the light on and Derek hovered in the doorway for a minute.

“You mind if I hang out on your couch?” Derek said, his hand flexing where it was holding the door frame and Stiles looked at him in confusion. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. I mean- I’m sure you’ll be fine but, just in case.”

“You don’t have to, Derek,” Stiles said, frowning. “I’m okay-”

“I just don’t like it.” Derek interrupted sharply and then winced. “Sorry. I’ll go if you want.”

“No,” Stiles said slowly. Derek had behaved perfectly but Stiles did have a lock on his bedroom door anyway, just in case. His omega was yelling at him to beg Derek to stay but he shoved it violently away, as he was used to doing. He and his omega didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. “It’s okay if you want to stay. You just- don’t have to.”

Stiles saw Derek’s shoulders sink down in apparent relief and he looked at the alpha in confusion, wondering why Derek cared so much about a near-stranger. Maybe Derek’s hormones, triggered by Stiles’ heat-scent, were confusing him as much as Stiles’ were. “Good,” Derek said. “Alright, I’ll be in the living room, then. Sleep well.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said weakly. “Thanks for everything. And if you get bored, I don’t mind if you go.” His omega minded very much.

“I won’t, but okay,” Derek said before he stepped out and closed the door. Stiles exhaled heavily and sank down onto his bed, feeling the wet heat-pad beneath him and pulling a face at the feeling. Gross.

He got up, wincing at the pain in his belly, locked his door, and changed his heat pad again before he turned out the light and sank into bed.

Derek’s scent lingered in the air and Stiles inhaled heavily as he closed his eyes, curling his legs up closer to his stomach to try to stop his abdomen hurting so much and it did help a little. His breathing slowed steadily and he fell asleep thinking about Derek’s scent and his warm arms keeping Stiles safe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> After what's happened in the US recently, it felt really important to me that Derek believed Stiles immediately and unconditionally when he said his heat was unnatural and then took steps to help him prove it. i know its just a A/B/O fanfic but i did find it cathartic in a way and i hope somebody else gets something out of it too, amongst all the angst :)
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr at maqcyloup! My anon asks are always open!


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